The Ripper's Calling Card
by ResilientBelle
Summary: London, 1888. Investigator Edward Cullen was brought in to find the killer terrorizing the city. They developed a strange relationship through letters, but the results turned grave when his wife, Isabella, becomes the stalker's object of affection. Did she survive the autumn of terror?


**The Devil's in the Details**

 **Beta: Fran Walsh**

 **Facebook Name: Resilient Belle**

 **Pen Name: ResilientBelle**

 **Title: The Ripper's Calling Card**

 **Summary- London, 1888. Investigator Edward Cullen was brought in to find the killer terrorizing the city. They developed a strange relationship through letters, but the results turned grave when his wife, Isabella, becomes the stalker's object of affection. Did she survive the autumn of terror?**

 **Pairing: Edward and Bella**

 **Rating: M**

 **Word Count: 3587**

 **DISCLAIMER:** Twilight and its inclusive material is copyright to Stephenie Meyer. Original creation, including but not limited to plot and characters, is copyright to the respective authors of each story. No copyright infringement is intended.

Investigator Edward Cullen had witnessed violence in his life, but the gore discovered in this room was like nothing he'd seen before. The stench of burnt clothing and blood permeated his nose. Body parts; intestines, flesh…It covered every available surface. The police had stepped into an orgy of mutilation. The sight of breasts meticulously cut away from the body had sickened one of the constables.

A set of initials, barely legible, was scrawled in blood across the wall – 'FM.'

The photographer stood close by, capturing the details of the gruesome crime scene at #13 Miller Court. A short time ago, the body of the now unrecognizable woman was discovered by her landlord, Emmett McCarty. Her name was Tanya Kelly. She was approximately six weeks behind in her tenement apartment rent. McCarty had come to collect on her debt, but no one greeted him at the door after he knocked twice. Through a broken window he saw something on the bedside table that was unnerving. Immediately he sent an assistant with a message to find a constable.

"Another one. Jack the Ripper. McCarty sent me." The words tumbled from his mouth and his finger pointed in the direction from which he came.

Inspector Cullen arrived along with the police surgeon, Doctor Carlisle Masen. They'd been given instructions to wait before entering. There was word of a new technique that was to **be used; one** that Scotland Yard wanted to test specifically on the Ripper murders – bloodhounds.

As they waited for over two hours, the most that Cullen could do was to keep **onlookers** away from the apartment. The Police Superintendent, Samuel Uley, never showed up with any bloodhounds, though, and McCarty had to break the door down with a pickax.

The features of Tanya Kelly's face were gashed in all directions. The nose, the cheekbones, **eyebrows** , and ears were all removed. Doctor Masen gasped when they entered the small room.

"This looks … more like the work of the devil," McCarty uttered.

"In this case, perhaps the devil knows as much about the human body as our doctor knows," Cullen began. "This isn't the work of some bumbling idiot or a street urchin." He took careful steps around the room. "Ripper is very intelligent, almost scientific in his approach. He has this knowledge of anatomy that one would acquire through years of experience, thus the man is older. Look by her left side, or what was her left side." He kneeled down. "Dear God. Is this… was this part of her intestines?" He had a coughing fit while turning to face Dr. Masen.

"Investigator Cullen, I cannot say simply by looking down. You know I need time to examine the body, the remains. All this blood loss makes it more…ah…challenging" The doctor kneeled, so he was face to face with Edward. "Let it be known that your insinuation that Ripper and I are alike in our thinking doesn't sit well with me, either." His words came out hard. "Choose your words carefully, Cullen **.** " Doctor Masen went back to his business.

" _What would make him respond in such a manner? Did my words offend or is he keeping a secret?"_ Edward kept his thoughts to himself. A noise from outside caught his attention, and when he came to the door, a piece of paper was thrust into his hand.

" _God placed me here to kill whores. TK was a bitch like the rest of them. She tasted sweet. An over ripened peach. They want someone to slaughter them – I laughed while I cut off her breasts ha ha. I must leave nothing behind. It amuses me that you have not found me Investigator Cullen. All of England knows my name. Your wife - is she clever? She will be my salvation-"_

The barely legible handwritingwent down the paper at an angle. It was messy, but only an adult could have written the letter. This was the third one he'd received, but until now **,** there was no mention of his wife, Isabella.

How he wanted to curse and yell and find this son of **a** bitch!

There was no power so great that he would allow the Ripper near Isabella.

"Go away!" Edward growled at a newspaper journalist and stomped back into the apartment. This was the last piece of information the press needed at this point. He and the rest of the police were in a constant battle against the newspaper since the first body was discovered. They believed that the details of the murders didn't need to be publicized. And the absolute last thing he wanted was for anyone to know the Ripper was acquainted with his wife, except Superintendent Uley.

Edward had been personally selected by Uley to investigate the Ripper. They were in constant contact and shared similar theories. A bond of trust had formed between them.

He pulled the superintendent into a smaller side room. While it didn't afford all the privacy he wanted, it was better than nothing. Uley's dark eyes scanned the document for several moments before he spoke.

"Investigator Cullen, how are you certain this is Ripper? His signature is strangely absent on this-"

"Sir, how can we argue over a fine point when this…damnable monster…is searching for my wife?" Edward was both exasperated and tortured. He rubbed at his sore eyes. "This is the third letter Ripper has sent by messenger directly to me, each messenger different from the last. Pardon me if I come across as impatient."

"I am unsure if this-"Uley made a gesture pointing towards the other room, "has overwhelmed your mind. This is beyond grotesque, much more than the other murders."

Edward interrupted him. "Indeed the violence has escalated, sir, and I believe that's cause for concern." He began to explain a theory that ate at his mind and refocused. "The murderer has become more, shall we say, messy? There is some message for us. The handwriting in his letter – it's different than the others. He certainly took the necessary time to dissect the victim, but Ripper's anger is becoming stronger, his behavior much more aggressive. One can only imagine what might happen next." Pent-up emotions flooded his psyche after he spoke those words.

"Excellent, Investigator Cullen," Uley exclaimed. "Excellent deductive reasoning." Doctor Masen called them over to the other room, abruptly ending their conversation. The superintendent couldn't help but notice a certain tension between the two colleagues.

The hours dragged as the scene was investigated. All he wanted to do was to return home, to the place where he found refuge and comfort, to be with the woman he loved more than life itself.

Edward's career was a grisly one. The intensity of the Ripper murders stayed with him in his dreams, robbing him of rest. It ate at him constantly.

He nearly ran home, and upon his arrival, Isabella was waiting at the front door. News about the Ripper's victims spread like wildfire **,** and it wasn't surprising that she knew. He quickly closed the door behind them before embracing her tightly.

Edward kissed her face, lightly, all over. Her eyes, her magnificent brown eyes that he adored, were closed tightly. A tear slid down her face.

How hard was this on his wife? He'd never given that thought any consideration.

Isabella was the one bearing the brunt of his discord, of his nightly battles with his subconscious.

Yet here she was, giving him everything she had in her heart.

"The love I feel for you, darling wife…dearest darling wife." His voice was nearly hoarse from choking up. "He won't…no, never, not in a million years…I won't allow for it to happen!" She took a small step backwards when he raised his voice.

"Edward, please do not let your thoughts consume you this evening." She placed her hand on his cheek. "Alice delivered the grim news **,** and we prayed in the parlor. God surely hears our prayers, love, He surely does."

A brief smile appeared on his face. "Your faith was always part of your beauty. I am not quite sure how I ever lived before we were married." Once again, he pulled her close. "I wish to do nothing more than hold you."

' _God placed me here…Your wife…Is she clever?'_

The Ripper's words echoed loudly.

How could he forget them?

There weren't enough prayers to stop or end the accursed pain that came with each dawn. The hellish crime scenes became worse with every death. Edward thought he knew what to expect, that is until he received _that_ letter.

ButIsabella knew nothing of his contact with Ripper.

Should he tell her of the imminent danger? Or would it be in her best interest to stay silent? He pulled away while the debate raged in his mind. The deafening silence went on for minutes before she exited the house. Isabella needed fresh air and a short walk.

Why couldn't he simply speak the words that were on the very tip of his tongue?

His love for this woman consumed him and made him see that there was more to life than crime and dead bodies. His fear had a stronghold over his very life, though. Edward would rather face Isabella's wrath than to know she was outside, unprotected from this madman.

Edward didn't realize this was what the killer wanted, though…he wanted to divide them.

He ran to the door, ran out, and searched in desperation.

This type of behavior was not normal for Isabella. What caused her to leave without telling him?

He silently cursed himself and his brooding nature, which was at the center of his problem. Withdrawing from her always caused discord in their marriage. From that moment on, Edward vowed to tell her everything, good or bad, because his life depended upon it.

He saw her walking towards the Whitlock's house and called out her name. The euphoria of finding his wife, alive and safe, flooded his heart with joy and relief.

"Please, I beg you to never do that again," Edward spoke, nearly breathless. "My heart…dear God, you have my heart, Isabella Cullen!"

She wanted to protest as he picked her up and carried her down the lane, but the words never came.

What would people say about them – that the investigator had finally lost his mind? Or that Mrs. Cullen was so fragile that she nearly fainted earlier.

There was only one person watching them, and it wasn't a nosy busybody or talkative neighbor.

Jack was closer to them than either could fathom. That familiar urge was taking over his mind. It always started slowly, like a suggestion.

 _Just once more, one more careful slice, and I can appease…that need. Feel her heart beat ebb away._

But this was not one of the whores!

No, this was Isabella Cullen, the _one_ who would save him from this inexplicable addiction.

For tonight, though, she was safe. The Ripper would find another victim and have no mercy, even if the very act of sex with another bitch made him sick to his stomach.

But the damnable thirst that grew within had to be quenched.

The cover of the newspaper read **** _"The Terror of Autumn."_

Edward had grown more distant towards members of the press lately. If he took so much as a short walk from the police station across the street, someone was there, waiting to ask a dozen questions. Unless they were on a first name basis, he rarely spoke.

Once at home, he told Isabella the details, and she listened with rapt attention. They found both comfort and affirmation of life in their lovemaking. Edward poured all of his emotions into each lingering gaze and gentle touch. Hours later he imagined her smile as they –

"Investigator Cullen, you have a delivery!" an errand boy came rushing towards him, interrupting his thoughts. It was always a different boy, and they never knew the name of who asked to make the delivery.

If the previous correspondence nearly broke him, this was more concise.

" _You will suffer just as I…I will see to that."_

The script was more controlled and less flamboyant than in the last letter – a marked difference. No signature at the end. No mention of Isabella; this was about _him._

Dread pierced his heart.

Superintendent Uley crossed the room, and took the paper away from him. A dark eyebrow shot upward. "He's rather brief in his sentiments."

Edward let out a heavy breath and stood to face his boss. "His purpose is direct, but I have a deep fear there's far more between the lines, sir. Is Dr. Masen examining evidence?"

Uley understood exactly why the investigator asked about Dr. Masen specifically. "Unfortunately he left some time ago – complaining of a headache and blurry vision."

"I don't believe that lie for one second." Edward huffed and slipped a heavy coat over his body. "Between you and me, the thin sliver of…trust…I once had in the doctor has been officially severed!" He attempted to keep his voice low but was failing. "This sick son of a bitch has created some delusional…fantasy where my wife is his _salvation,_ and I won't allow it!" All eyes were on him as he checked his weapon before walking outside.

Wind blew hard around her body. Isabella wasn't looking forward to the coming season, but as long as she stayed in good spirits, it wouldn't be that horrendous. There was much to look forward to in the coming months.

Alice, along with the other members of their book club, would soon complete the ornaments for the Christmas holiday.

A new novel would catch their interests.

And the murderer would eventually be found.

Yes, she was certain of husband's abilities; that his hard work would soon come to fruition. There would be a celebration in order, both public and private.

Aaahhhh, how the thought of that brought a thrill, but Isabella reigned in her daydream.

Esme Masen requested her for tea this afternoon. It was pleasant to receive an invite but what was the occasion? They had spoken only once, at a church meeting, and it was about church business. Mrs. Masen was a bit intimidating to Isabella, made it difficult to speak her mind. Nevertheless, she wanted to make a good impression, so she wore her finest daytime gloves and dress.

Mrs. Masen lived in the Maybrick House. It was large, imposing, giving off an air of pretentiousness. Oak trees that appeared older than time lined the walkway. A cold shiver ran down Isabella's spine when she approached the front, and before she could reach for the iron knocker, an older man stood in the doorway.

Splendor was everywhere in the foyer, and she felt severely underdressed. The knit shawl around her delicate shoulders suddenly seemed too shabby. Dust settled on her shoes, and her hair was in disarray from walking in the wind.

Isabella wanted to dart outside and go home. There wasn't anything about this situation that was inviting.

Then she heard a scream unlike any other. And then another. A man's voice was barely audible over the noise.

Isabella was frozen on the spot.

The screaming came to a halt **.** A man covered in blood and holding a long knife was coming down the flight of stairs, and she grabbed the door handle tightly, trying in vain to turn it.

"Mrs. Cullen, we finally meet. I've been looking forward to this moment more than you would ever know." His cold stare and devious smile were unlike anything she had ever seen before.

Isabella tried turning the ancient door handle for the second time, but it wouldn't budge.

"I have no intentions of hurting you. Please forgive my appearance – I had to take care of some…oh, pressing matter, and now you and I shall have tea." He placed his blood covered fingers on her shaking arm. "Oh my dear, you must be cold. It's such a chilly November afternoon. Come and warm yourself by the fire." His voice was sinister, and it brought to mind the conversations she shared with Edward.

"You're Jack the Ripper!" She screamed as loud as possible before shoving him away. Since the door wasn't cooperating, there had to be another means of escape. He'd forced her into the parlor with many windows, which gave her an idea. It was now or never.

Isabella heaved her body though a large window. There was no time to be concerned with glass or cuts. Isabella needed to make an escape.

If she heaved herself through, then she was outside. He had to stop her BEFORE that.

But he followed and pounced, grabbing her hands with one of his and covering her mouth with the other.

"Now it wouldn't be polite to ruin what could be a wonderful afternoon." She wasn't sure if the knife was next to her or not, but that didn't stop Isabella from fighting. "I didn't think it would be like this," he grunted in a firm voice. "You always seemed so meek and docile, especially with your husband."

Isabella bit down hard on his skin, taking out her resentment. It was his turn to yell; she felt around for the knife after she elbowed his face.

Weeks and months of white-hot, and unladylike, anger flew over her. Every woman in London lived in fear because of him. Not to mention this filthy excuse for a man was responsible for her anguish and her husband's torture. The serrated knife was in her hands now.

Now he staggered back before falling…clutching at his hand.

"Meek! Do I appear meek? I despise that word!" Isabella was shocked at how confidently she took control of the situation. She wanted to let him feel the knife penetrating, cutting his skin, bringing him closer and closer to death with each cut. This power she had over the Ripper was frightening. His very life was in her hands.

He would exist no more.

Could she do to him what he had done to others?

To show no mercy to him as he showed none to the women he tortured.

Isabella Cullen was not comfortable with killing, even if it was Jack the Ripper.

Her body shook harder; then she felt the heavy knife slip out of her hand and onto the grass below.

He laughed darkly while reaching for the object.

A shot rang out and his body crumpled. Now the only sound was a low gurgle of blood coming from the killer's mouth.

Isabella didn't move an inch. Wind continued to whip around her body **,** but she couldn't control the surge of tears that threatened to fall down her face. A voice she didn't recognize clearly called out her name.

"Mrs. Cullen, are you hurt? Your husband will never quite forgive me if one hair on your head is missing." He came closer, and she fought for an explanation. "Oh God, you're…Is this _your_ blood?"

She mumbled something about the window and glass and getting cut. Before Isabella could say another word, her eyes became heavy. She didn't have the strength to fight the darkness.

"You look like an angel," Edward whispered while stroking her hair. "I wish I'd been the man to save you, but thank God Uley came to your rescue." He'd watched over his wife like a hawk for hours. Horrendous fear had taken over when he saw her bleeding.

Uley reassured him Isabella wasn't dead, though, and needed him to be calm. After a thorough investigation, he was finished with the case.

Edward had taken time away from investigations after the identity of the murdererwas revealed as none other than Dr. Carlisle Masen.

Both he and Isabella were worn out, in need of new surroundings and new faces. Though it was home, there was a burning desire to get away from London and the rest of England. All that was left here were nightmares and unidentified dead women.

He wanted to start a new life with Isabella, preferably in the states. Edward's family in Chicago would be more than happy to open their home. He prayed that moving would bring a smile back to her face.

From the other room, he could hear someone knocking on the front door. Edward placed a soft kiss on her forehead before leaving.

"Greetings." Uley stood at their front door holding his hat. "May I come in?"

"Yes sir, certainly," Edward responded. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?"

The front room seemed smaller when they sat on the furniture.

"Curiosity always killed the cat, Investigator Cullen, but I like your brand of curiosity. I need to know if or when you plan to return to the department."

Edward tilted his head. "I'd expected you to ask, of course, but as of now, I'm declining what I presume is your officer, sir. Isabella and I… we'll be leaving England. The shock of what occurred has been too much on her." He took a pause and rubbed his chin. "My, ah, family in Chicago has yet to meet my wife."

"And it's high time that they met your lovely bride! It goes without mentioning, but you will be sorely missed. This time in your –"

A knock interrupted their conversation. A small piece of paper was waiting when Edward opened the door. The script was neat, legible.

'' _You only think I'm dead –Jack the Ripper.''_

A cold shiver ran down Edward's spine. They couldn't leave the city soon enough.

 **Thank you all for reading.**


End file.
